Into The Night (I'll Be With You)
by daisherz365
Summary: Sherlock is leaving them all behind, all their happiness and all the joy it is unbearable for him. He expects to just do that, it's what he's good at. He should have known that she would be watching and she would want to be near him to be sure. He's not okay. Of course, she knows. Spoilers for The Sign of Three
1. Chapter 1

Into the Night (I'll Be With You)

**Synopsis:** _Sherlock is leaving them all behind, all their happiness and all the joy it is unbearable for him. He expects to just do that, it's what he's good at. He should have known that she would be watching and she would want to be near him to be sure. He's not okay. Of course, she knows. _

**Hello again! So another episode inspired fic for you all. I posted Always & Never a couple days ago. Now we have this one which follows up on the ending of The Sign of Three. If you haven't seen it yet, it's best not to read this one yet. If you have well bless your heart, enjoy this emotionally driven thing here. Let me know what you think, please?**

**much love,**

**day**

**P.S. This is one is also in the POV of Sherlock, because that's becoming something I feel absolutely in need of doing. :3**

* * *

_there's a weaker heart I've laid to rest_  
_the darkness in you_  
_there's a vicious storm inside my chest_  
_that's hiding the truth_

_I sleep with the monsters in the corner of my mind_  
_my mind_

_I miss the beat of your heart_  
_but you ended right where I start_  
_I miss the still of your soul_  
_but mine's not gold_

_- Savior; Ally Rhodes_

* * *

He was quite aware that most didn't understand the effects of what the day had done to him as a whole. There was the speech most importantly. Several had been looking forward to that. He had pulled off much to his delight. It hadn't been easy, there were too many people. All watching him, waiting for him to say something off or wrong - he had done that much. Only to prove a point. He had faltered more times during that speech than any normal day doing his actual work. It had truly been a matter of making the words come out without sounding like an idiot.

He had succeeded and this was all good and proper. However, it hadn't been the end of the day. He had other obligations to uphold. Or more like he had a gift to present to the happy couple. After the whole ordeal with Major Sholto. He felt in his element moving through that without any hiccups. He had been able to calm down for that bit. It was like walking - easy, and routine. Playing his violin was where he found solace in times of hardships. This was not one of those on the surface - or at least it wasn't supposed to be.

The niggling in the back of his head was silent as he moved his fingers and strung his bow against the right notes, completing it. It was only after it did he seem to have a lost of what he was supposed to do. Dancing. Most would think it was not his forte. It was in all actuality. He had been forced to do many things as a child and dancing lesson was on the list. He hadn't hated it. In fact he loved it. As he had shown Janine earlier on before the speech was fumbled through. He just didn't find enough moments to find it useful. Dancing was useful at events such as weddings, right?

_Wrong._

He had been hoping to have a dance with Janine as this was something expected of him. However, that hadn't exactly worked out the way. His smile faltering a bit as he stood in the midst of all the liveliness of everyone who had took to the dance floor for a more upbeat tune. He had been truly happy for the newly-wedded Watsons however. He had told them this already. With the added bonus of more blissful news. Any other friend would have been elated for the rest of the night.

Sherlock Holmes was not an every man no matter how much he could try to be. He had surely been trying all night. He had done nearly all the things he was supposed to do, yet he felt immensely discontent and unsure of why he was still there. He had even thought about cutting in a dance with a certain pathologist of his, but she had looked just as happy as the others. Or at least that's what he had thought for the better part of the day and now into the night.

It was at that moment that he decided to leave. It wasn't something he was supposed to do, people weren't supposed to leave weddings. This wasn't a wedding anymore however. This was the reception and a part of him knew that it wouldn't be ending any time soon. He rather leave while he still could. No one was going to notice his departure anyways. Everyone was too distracted. This was a good thing. He could grab his coat and roll out into the cool night. Take a walk, probably. It would be good to be able to have time to simmer on his thoughts and figure out a few things before going back home.

He needed to be alone. It's what he wanted.

How he had managed to stay so long? Well, he had hopes for the evening beyond being a great best man - great friend. They all seemed to be slipping out of his grasp and he was left with what? Himself, alone.

_Alone is what protects me._

John had once negated that. _Friends protect people_.

His friends were all happily dancing along inside not worrying about him anymore. That was the truth of the matter and he would leave them to it. It was one of the main things that he wanted more than anything; for them to be able to be happy, to find happiness but there was a large part of him that wished that he too could find it. Janine had told him earlier, "_I wish you weren't...like that_." He had silently agreed with her, it would have made things a lot easier for him to adapt if he was normal; a common man.

He detested slinking into that however. He had a brain and he never wished to do away with it. It's why he was different. He actually used his instead of letting his heart doing the thinking for him. Intellect and rationality was something of a gift for him and a bit of a curse in the same right. It could be construed that it might have been the scientist in him as well. He could accept that, too.

He slipped through the door with his coat on his shoulder. He began to tighten the collar around him as he took more steps away from the jovial party inside. This was the easy bit; walking away.

He had gotten past a tree when he figured it be alright for him to slip into his mind a little. Not too much that he couldn't see where he was going. He knew the area well enough. There were a few major factors that he needed to figure out. John and Mary were to be expecting a child. Molly was getting married to that - stop - Molly was getting married. She hadn't scheduled a date as far as he knew. He had been trying not deduce her too much. Which was why when he went to her about the stag night he had had trouble not offending her; he failed for a small bit.

John would be focused on Mary and the baby when the time grew closer, which resulted in having to be on his own a bit more. He had been on his own for much more than most would expect since his return to his friends. For a brief moment, he begun to think that perhaps that his brother had been right when they were talking earlier. Except he hated admitting anything such as that. Mycroft was wrong...most times.

Sherlock had gotten down to the corner and was about to make a turn when he heard the sound of someone yelling for him. "Wait!" Panting...he stopped and waited to see if he could blink away the thoughts to be able to decipher if he would truly need to be turning around. "Sherlock!"

Oh. Perhaps so.

He knew that voice but what was she doing here?

He slowly turned around and stared at the running form headed straight for him. _Dammit_. He cursed silently as he took his hands out of his coat pockets and reached out to catch her before she tripped into him as she came closer. "What are you doing?" He asked immediately. He looked past her into the long stretch of walk way that she had run along to get to him. There was no sight of _him_.

"Where are you going?" She said instead of answering him. She was careful to not touch him once he had put her on her feet. She did look a bit off. She hadn't brought her jacket! "Where is your coat, Molly?" He muttered, giving her a very stern look as he begun to unbutton his jacket. At least he had a suit on under this. She was sleeveless. What the hell was she thinking?

He handed it to her and she looked at it before taking it, thanking him before returning to look at him. It was then that he realized that she had tears in her eyes.

What did Tom do? Did he do anything? Why was she crying?

"Molly..." He said softly, she spoke hurriedly then as took to buttoning a few of the buttons on the coat. She was swimming in it really. At least she was covered. John would be proud of him for acting so quickly. Molly was a tiny person, especially for a woman. It wouldn't take long for her to get sick standing like this in the cold frigid air.

"You look sad."

He didn't move as he watched her. He didn't know what he was supposed to say. She was right, of course. She would see what everyone else couldn't. She had noticed it before when he was about to die. He bit the inside of his cheek as he waited if she would give him a small hint of what else she needed from now that she pointed it out.

"I know you would have left if I hadn't stopped you."

"I'll still go, Molly." He muttered, swallowing as he went back to looking over his shoulder. If he saw that man he was going to dash off. He didn't feel like having a confrontation. This was one of those nights where he was sure to lash out on the idiot. He was most certainly that. Molly knew this too. He had seen her reaction to his "brilliant idea" as to how the murder attempt had been done during the reception. He was not him, he didn't see things like he did. In fact he was worse than most coppers he had met. What was she doing with him? He shut his eyes for a moment clearing his head. Now was not the time to be thinking about this. She was standing in front of him.

"I'll go with you, you know." She surprised him.

He opened his mouth, closing it, opening it again before gritting his teeth. She would do so much for him and yet he couldn't count a single thing that he had done right for her. How was that fair? He sounded like a child and he knew it but nothing made sense when it came to Molly Hooper. Especially not now.

"Don't be an idiot." He said, there was infliction in his voice when he grunted that out. Pain. Yeah, that was what it was and she caught it.

It was as if she was on some sort of streak of wanting to continue to startle and surprise him tonight within a matter of minutes. She reached out and looked to be going for his face but instead slid both her arms around his neck pulling him down. His hands were in his pocket at the time but they slipped out - not exactly on accord with his mind. He left them on his side as he felt her warm breath against his neck as she continued talking. "I'm always an idiot when I'm with you." She was quiet about it.

He swallowed feeling an extreme tightness in his chest because of two things. First, she was holding him and secondly, she was telling him things that he didn't need to hear right now. She had a ring on her finger for crying out loud. What was she trying to do? "I don't know what you want..." He spoke. It came out thickly and rough.

He shut his eyes again, trying to settle all the warmth that was emitting from inside of him due to all the sensory overload at what was going on and the things that were not going on but in his head he was seeing things. They weren't real.

Molly turned her head and he opened his eyes, her fingers were rubbing slowly up against his neck slipping through the loose curls at the bottom. "Let me come with you."

"Tom?" He asked.

"Let me come with you." She repeated.

There was something almost desperate about her plea. It wasn't as if she wasn't happy with Tom. He knew from what she had discussed with him briefly that she was satisfied with him. He couldn't completely see the word happy when he looked at her. There was something in her eyes that triggered him to not question it. Just like he chose not to tell her the truth when it came to the man as well. There might have also been some fear on his part about attempting to truly discuss that matter with her. He didn't know what would happen. The fact that she was standing, pressed up against him like this spoke a little more to him now.

He couldn't deny her. Not right now.

She had seen him when no one else had bothered to look at him. He could use her company. He required it, even.

He took in a deep breath as he slipped his arms around her waist, embracing her lightly. "Okay." He mumbled. "Okay." He repeated.

"It's going to be okay." She whispered against his neck, before slipping down to the ground. He was a bit taller than her but the heels had helped for the most part. She looked at him. The sadness was heavy on his face. She looked down at his hand and slipped hers into it. "C'mon." She told him quietly.

He nodded numbly.

She was too good, entirely too good for him but he would take this moment with her over being alone. She was what he needed right now. He was sure of it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Into The Night (I'll Be With You) - Pt. 2**

Hello there.

There were a slew of requests for a part two for this. I feel like for those who have been reading my Sherlolly for awhile know me, I always have another piece to add and so here this is. I hope I don't make you cry too much. I tend to cry a lot about these things. In fact I have cried so much over this one fic because of all the emotions. Ugh, it just hurts you know? I hope you enjoy it.

P.S. There are references to two of my other fics on here - they just kind of worked really well in this. _A Study in Chemistry_ and _Give & Take_. For those who have read those before I'm sure you might get some delight out of reading bits that might remind you of it. It certainly filled my heart with joy. :D

much love,

day

p.p.s. check out the song I used below on youtube. The band is quite magnificent.

* * *

_You're always on the run_  
_Leaving all the sadness of the sun_  
_Don't you fear that it might leave you here so cold, and you're afraid of love_

_We're fools inside a fire_  
_And now the flames have spread to your denial_  
_Don't you fear that it might leave you here?_

_Your eyes are forlorn and tired_  
_Your eyes are forlorn and tired_  
_Your heart is stood in the wild_

- Forlorn; Meadowlark

* * *

It was the oddest and most common reaction when in the presence of one pathologist by the name of Molly Hooper. He felt nearly calm with an underlying bubbling of uncertainty in the deep boroughs of his mind and the place where his heart was supposed to be. They had been walking for some time. Molly would occasionally talk about minimal topics of conversation. He figured it was just keep the silence out. He had noted that he unnerved her much. She was still very much rattled by things that had went on today and some that hadn't. He hadn't questioned her motives behind coming after him - he found it was easier just to let her do what she found was truly necessarily. At least in this moment.

He had come to grips with what had transpired closer to the building where they had been surrounded by friends for the newly-wedded bliss of their two friends. John was more-so Molly's than Mary. He would have thought they would have been quite chummy with each other. They did have a common ease with him. Mary was different than most women he had come in contact with and so was Molly though it took him awhile to get to that realization. Years of idiotic deflection and obliviousness but yet here he was with her arm looped through his as they took a stroll back to his home. Back to Baker Street. It was to be his one and true place of solace.

Quiet. He sometimes enjoyed that. It's what brought him out of the atmosphere of laughter and music and into the night, wasn't it. _Yes_. He looking forward to it. He didn't know if he would truly find himself needing it now with a companion. His only luck was that it wasn't someone like Janine or John who had followed him out. They could be less than accommodating. That was the thing about his relationship with Molly Hooper though wasn't it? She was always willing to give him room to breathe, even when she had questions. She had so many thoughts and questions right now. He could feel them all jammed packed like sardines in a tin.

She didn't voice a single one of them. Not even when she was safely inside Baker Street. He took his coat back after she slid out of it. She was light on her feet to grasp it before it could hit the floor. He wanted to smile at how much care she put into not getting any dirt on one of his few precious belongings. He hung it up on the nook before gesturing for them to go on upstairs. Molly gave him a smile before taking the banister of the staircase in her hands and following it up to 221B.

He chose not to immediately follow her up, giving her time to settle up there. He slid a hand down his face, pondering for a brief few minutes how the rest of the evening would proceed. He hadn't thought of getting this far. A part of him was still reluctant to not send her away again. There was a strong part of his being that required that he not do that. He feared the madness that would take form if he was left alone. Though really he had been alone before but that was before he was truly and utterly alone. There was no Mrs. Hudson down stairs to yell for, she was still at the party. There was no one. It was just him...and now there was Molly, the ever seeing pathologist who made him think more about the things he did not only towards her but to others.

She had taught him so much and he wasn't sure she truly understood that even if he had told her during the case of _The Empty Hearse_. Rather, the beginning of that case that she hadn't been included in the end of it. He had told John about Molly's involvement in that. _Yes._ He spouted off little things to him without thinking most of the time. Reading through that blog post he could remember the almost indignation of the man when discussing Molly's involvement when he wasn't around to guide him. Sherlock needed someone and Molly was there, what had he wanted him to do? Stew in Baker Street and get nothing at all accomplished? That was not what this was about. He was alive again and there were such matters that needed to be addressed. He needed to live, too.

It was much more boring to just sit in a room and do absolutely nothing. No telly, no music, just to sit. Why would anyone want to do that?

He stopped there before he could get started up again, his eyes trailing up the stairs. He was no alone, he had a companion to try to entertain if absolutely necessary. He sighed, ruffling his hair a bit as he begun to climb up the stairs. One, two, four, six, skull, Molly. Oh, Molly. She wasn't sitting, she was holding the skull at an angle. He imagined she was inspecting it like she would the deceased. It was once a person though wasn't it?

She had given him that skull, he wondered if she remembered. "I thought it was a bit funny that you've kept it so long. Always near unless someone's taken it hostage in order to get you to calm down." Her voice was cheery. It was an interesting change in comparison to him. She had been more or less shaken and now she was giving him a smile and talk about a skull. That was the way of life wasn't, one moment you were up then you were down, the circle comes back around again. Huh, how quaint.

He stayed in the doorway watching as she placed it precisely in the same spot and position that it had been when she picked it up. He had the place down to a system that sometimes ranged from messy to clean but the mantel was nearly always the same. His knife was sitting there next to it with notes in it. Mostly ones that had caused him to skewer them with it. People could be so infuriating nearly all the time. Not today though, he felt like he was coming down from what normal people would see as a thrilling day. He just had to multitask between doing the honorable best man bit and the consulting detective part of the day. One which was supposed to be more important than the other, yet here he was still standing on two feet in the company of another.

He would probably thank her later for not allowing him to succumb to the couch and lay there. Or possibly grab his stash of cigarettes for smokes. Nicotine would be a plausible escape from the way his thoughts kept running away from each other. "Why wouldn't I keep it?" He finally said. "It's a perfectly good skull."

She looked over to him, turning her body towards him - angled at least, she giggled. "Only with you does that sound appropriate."

"Referring to your fiance, Molly?"

"No." Her mouth turned down. She didn't want to talk about _dear_ Tom. Right, this was supposed to be about him.

Sherlock chose to actually do something beyond just standing in the doorway watching her. He moved to the other side of the room reaching for his violin that was sitting in it's case. Close to the stand. He placed his hands in his pockets instead. This was probably a less than apropos time to decide to play. He spun around and looked for her. She had moved to sit in John's chair - perhaps it wasn't his chair now, just a chair. The other chair - not his chair...obviously. Her feet were curled up under her, she had taken off her heels. She was watching him, when was she not. Her face was neutral, no expectancy in her face or her eyes. Her eyes told him thousands of stories yet they weren't saying much now.

He let out a sigh, moving down to grab his instrument regardless of whether it would be met with happiness or not. He felt out of his element with her just sitting there looking at him like that. Was this her way of telling him something? Of what, he could not say. He took to joining her with his instrument in his lap as he took his chair directly across from her. "What was the point of coming here with me, Molly?" He had began to toy with the strings on his violin, plucking one here as his other hand traveled down the body of the rest as if it was an entirely different instrument entirely. His eyes stayed focused on what his hands were doing while he waited for her to respond. She didn't disappoint him.

"You needed a friend. Still do, you're out of sorts."

"Some would say that was just how I am naturally." He quipped as he plucked a more tenor note. He almost looked up at her to see her reaction but chose not to seeing as he had a feeling they were about to start talking about more difficult matters. She would be able to read it on his face whether or not he was being genuine. He had made a silent promise to always be genuine with her if he could find it doable upon his reunion with her.

"Not right now. Besides, Sherlock this is me you're talking to." She was right, of course but he didn't want to be the person to admit it. Not yet. He wanted to see where all of this would spin. How far could it go before they were interrupted or she decided to leave him to his own devices. He had already been through most of the variables and the result was nearly always the same. He could try to change it but it wouldn't vary all that much. There was one such change that might differ it however, he didn't know if it would happen however. Only the progression of the night would give him absolute certainty.

"You can see me, right." He let out a long sigh. "I suppose you want me to discuss my feelings about everything."

"Whatever you're willing to talk about. I could never push you, could I?" There was something almost innocent about this whole affair to Sherlock. Molly being the one innocent thing about it, though perhaps that wasn't entirely true. She currently had an engagement ring on her finger yet she wasn't with her betrothed. She was with a man who she still felt fondly of. Very strongly fondly of. Sherlock wasn't an idiot, but he wasn't too weak to tell her all of the ways that this was wrong. He was too vulnerable about the subject to breach it. He was undecided about what it could mean for him. Just as how he was undecided about what life would be like once the Watsons returned from their Sex Holiday.

He hid a smile in his chest as he bent down to shield it. "Oh, you could." He nearly forgot that she had posed a question for him. "You push me not to do many things, Miss Hooper."

"What do you mean?"

His head slowly swiveled up so that he was staring at her. His hands halting in their dance over the strings. He chewed the inside of his cheek as he tried to think of some way to explain to her what she truly desired to know.

Desire. He nearly chuckled at his train of thought. There were very few things he desired in his life. One such could be said was in the room with him. He couldn't touch her though, not like that. It was funny for him to even be thinking of it. He blinked, her eyes seemed to shift from his face to his hands. Some say he could dissect people down with a first glance, she was picking him away by his movements. She was seeing all of him by his actions. Well, he could move this along a bit more quickly, couldn't he? Most certainly he could.

"You gave me more than one opportunity to kiss you on the way here. Well, I say kiss but..." He stopped short seeing the small spark that ignited in her eyes and in her body as it seemed she sat a little straighter at his admission. No, he probably shouldn't have said that at all. "Too late to take that back..." He inhaled, feeling a little light headed at the fact that they were now talking about this. This was worse than when she had iniated a conversation about sex with him the lab when all he wanted was her help with the stag night.

Highly enthralled though, snogging was much simpler than coitus at least he figured it was.

_How would you know?_

Mycroft, shut up! He shut his eyes a moment.

"You want to kiss me?"

"I'm much less put together tonight." He said, not regaling her with a definite answer.

"That's not what I asked, Sherlock." She seemed slightly annoyed but also very intrigued by the words that were coming out of his mouth. Then again most people when hearing the words kiss or sex in a sentence probably are more aware of the conversation. Molly was a normal person wasn't she?

NO.

She wasn't. Which was the entire point. She wasn't like that woman but she was much better. She could handle him better than most people and it was only because she had a fine eye for who he was. Even the who he is that he doesn't try to show to anyone lest of all anyone who wants to truly know him and she does want to know him and she does for the part that he shows. He's giving her a show tonight giving her small glimpses at the nasty parts of him, the bits that give the phrase "danger night" meaning. She's trying to diffuse it, like a bomb.

Oh how he's pleasantly ecstatic that there is no such thing around them right now. That might make him do something stupid like actually snog the life out of her. Like he said. Or like he implied.

"Sometimes." He said after a moment, it is a quiet answer and the silence returns for a moment before he grips his bow in his hand and positions his violin at his neck, resting it there before eagerly churning at a piece that had come to mind. Not his own but he finds it fitting and in need of playing right now, so he does. It is a long piece that reminds him of the sound of a heartbeat when in distress only for some calmness to come and let the wave ride out into nothing. Molly is the audience for this one and he is nearly shook out the reverie of the soothing quality that came after playing something - doing something other than sitting when he opens his eyes and sees her with tears in her eyes.

He wants to move to her. He wants to question her about whether he had done something wrong. He was just playing. He couldn't exactly say that that was just playing. It was a from of expression and it is here now looking at the petite woman in yellow that he knows that she had caught onto that while listening to it. He does open his mouth to say something to her when the door bursts open and someone he does not need to see right now burst in eliciting the attention of Molly Hooper.

Then the lava flows from out the volcano and he knows that being alone perhaps would have been better than him rushing to his feet, bow drawn like a sword and rushing between the two lovers as one begins to shout and proclaim things that are not true towards Molly. He presses the end of the bow at Tom's chest pushing him back and away from Molly. His eyes are shining with something almost murderous about it. Danger Night - yes, it's in full effect but not in the way that most expect it to. The silent rage that had been slowly bubbling in his chest erupted and now he was standing in front of a man who looked just as mad as he was internally. "Step away from her."

Molly was sitting the chair, hand over her lips as she wept. Her feet were no longer curled beneath her. She looks ready to stand but Sherlock peers over at her with a look. It is wild in nature and quite fierce but it gives her all the answer she needs from him as she settles back in the chair while she watches the two men in her life interact. Sherlock turns back to Tom, the other man talking to him. Pretending that the fact that bow is pressed into his chest doesn't hurt him. There is force behind the person holding it that shows that it is the contrary in fact.

"You're unbelievable you know that, Mister Holmes. Coming in and sweeping women off your feet as if it was child's play. It was incredibly hard to even make any of this work while you were supposedly dead."

"I assure it was my never my intention to come between such perfectly acquainted a pair such as you and Molly. Nor should it still be a problem."

"Yet, it is." Remarked Tom, leaning to the side slightly to peer at Molly. "You left without your bag, your phone still inside. You said you need air but you didn't come back. I should have known you would come here with him."

Molly looked ready to say something back but Sherlock was adamant about her not doing so. Not right now, her emotions were too severe to be trusted and so were his but he was used to be rational. He could be an extreme mediator in this situation. "Molly's intentions were innocent. She worries for nearly everyone she knows - I, am one of the fortunate souls who happen upon her kindness. Another reason being that she saw me when no one else decided to check up on the best man because this day was never about me. It was about my best friend and the love of his life, but Molly chose to dismiss it because she cares about me and if you are so upset about that then I don't understand why you came here in the first place. I don't understand why she would choose an idiot who doesn't know her entirely in the slightest."

"Sherlock..." Molly's voice broke.

He moved his arm that was holding the bow back, and placed it at his side as he turned to Molly and bent down before her. He reached into his pocket with one hand opening her hand and placing the fabric in it. "Stop crying. He's not worth your tears." Then he whipped back around to Tom who was staring at him with the most incredulous expression on his face.

"Take it, and go." Sherlock had reached out for Tom's wrist yanking him close enough that he could hear his hurried breathing, opening his palm and placing the ring in it and shoving him. Tom tripped back at the push and didn't immediately move out of the flat. Instead he stood there looking between Molly and Sherlock, several times over before he made his leave.

Neither of the occupants of 221B moved or said anything. Molly was trying to dry her face as she cried a little more and Sherlock just huffed before turning and heading in the direction of the kitchen, placing his violin in his chair as if it were a human body on the way there. He began to make tea as if that hadn't been a very disruptive moment back there. He was making tea as if this was something normal for him. He needed tea. Molly needed tea.

He turned around after getting the kettle on to grab the biscuits tin to see if he had anymore left. Molly had joined him, stilling him in his motions. She was holding the handkerchief in her hand as she wrapped her hands around her middle and sniffled. "You didn't have to do any of that, you know." She said after a few moments of watching him. He had went back to trying to finish up the preparations of the tea even though she was there. He felt better doing something then trying to broach anything. She didn't look to have the same mindset right now.

He was quiet. "I did, Molly." He took a step towards her settling to pluck the ribbon from her hair. "That too actually, your hair is falling out of it." Her hair fell down in a mess of waves against her shoulders and see reached for the ribbon only for him to place on top of the fridge. She frowned at him for a brief moment before he was back next to her.

"I like that ribbon." She told him.

"You would." He commented. "It does suit you, ironically enough."

"Thank you?"

"You're welcome." He smiled at her. "I like your hair down better, however." He muttered as he angled his body back towards her whispering to her lowly as he slid a large strand of her hair into his fingertips and twisted it around it. Molly swallowed visibly as Sherlock leaned towards her just as the kettle went off. He sighed, taking it off before giving her his attention again. Only to not have her there.

He rolled his eyes at her antics before pouring their tea and carrying it in to where she was standing by the window. She accepted her cup. "I hate that you decided to tell me your true feelings about my situation until you found it absolutely necessary."

"I was trying not to hurt you." He muttered, taking a sip of his drink. "I failed."

"I'm almost relieved that you did. I didn't know what to tell you every time you tried to ask about him and me with the exception of the lab incident. He did make me happy for his part but there was something missing. Then you were back and I grew wary of what it was that I wanted."

Sherlock didn't say anything for awhile, just enjoying the silence and warmth of this moment with her despite that they were actually talking about it now after the break up was so fresh, so new. Better to get things out of the way, she agreed with his thoughts on the matter. He smiled a little.

"What do you want now, Molly Hooper?" He asked upon the time when they were both finished with their tea. He took her cup away and placed both of theirs down on the window's ledge.

He turned back to her and found her gazing at him with a most curious expression. He couldn't turn away from it exactly in fact he stepped closer towards it. "It's always you, isn't it? Even when I can't have it. When I can. It drives me absolutely mad..." She started to go off on a tangent and at the moment Sherlock had one singular thought run through his head.

_shut up, Molly._

Then he kissed her, hard fully on the mouth and he felt the world shift just the slightest.

_You can have me._

This time it wasn't Molly fumbling it out when she didn't know how to help him. It was Sherlock thinking it, it was most appropriate, he thought as he pressed her close to him savoring the taste, the feel, everything that came in this tiny moment alone with Molly Hooper. The woman who matter most over anybody else. It just was, what it was and he felt something close to contentment with it.


End file.
